little miss instantlossbait would like to ask you what you would do to it if you got your fingers on it, like, just in case, so it can know what to avoid, you know?
little miss instantlossbait would like you to ignore the way it shivers when you look at it like that, because it'll never be defeated by someone like you.
little miss instantlossbait says that because it escaped (was eventually freed by its allies) so it doesn't matter how fast it lost because it wasn't really a loss and therefore that one doesn't count.
little miss instantlossbait wants you to know that that the speed at which it loses the capacity for conscious thought returning to drooling and repeating mantras whenever it makes eye contact with you has no greater implications about your relationship with it whatsoever.
hdg is dangerous because of how often you're trying to be like "haha, just remember, this is just a horny thing, in reality it's a terrible messed up thing that should never happen for real!" but you feel like kind of a liar because there's a buried part of you that's honestly like
"hi sorry i DO want this to happen for real, i DO want to trample all over humanity's self-determination and future in exchange for this, i AM bitter, i DON'T think we'd be better off without this happening, because I DON'T have faith that we could ever make things this good ourselves, and honestly I kinda *do* want to "get even" after a lifetime of being forced to comply with a system where *I* can't safely be myself, open up to the great majority of people, or achieve what I truly want, so maybe I *do* want everyone who'd be unhappy with this happening to have to know what that's like."
and then you reflect on all those thoughts and it just feels like
okay, whiny inner 14 year old, i think it's past your bedtime, champ.
POV: You’re a Feralist whose about to be liberated from the Affini.
(Mommy didn’t say you were allowed to leave though)
In case it’s not abundantly clear, this is my first attempt at something animated. I was going to crop it but it ended up having one of those ‘coming out of the screen towards the viewer’ kind of effect that I like.
I mainly wanted an excuse to draw Weshra in a bunch of cool poses.
while i understand your insistence that all your triggers be given the classic "only when spoken by me and with intent" framing, just think about how funny it'd be if someone at work somehow randomly said the right combination of words and you started barking
I want someone to laugh evily at how stupidly susceptible I am to their hypnotic powers while I lose myself as I struggle to resist their charm so, sooooo badly
What if you were a vampire and I was your thrall and you just let me wander around your Gothic mansion all lost and confused every day. Because I don't really know where I am or why I'm here and like why is it so empty here ...? And then I run into you and you just smile and greet me and I feel like I've met you before but I can't quite place it and I'm kinda just like staring at you and trying to think about why you seem so familiar. Like, it really feels like you're my best friend, I just feel all warm and cozy around you. I don't even realize you're hypnotizing me, sinking so cluelessly to the triggers you've been giving me. Reinforcing the training. I completely fall victim to your hypnosis, dropping deeper and deeper on command, exposing my neck for you. And you finally bite me, obedient bliss surging through me as you drink my blood. Of course, you never drain me dry, just enough to make me weak. And then you make sure I don't have any memory of encountering you before putting me to sleep in the bedroom I woke up in.
Collar leashed to my belt loop so she can't go far. Collar attached to my belt loop with a carabiner so she can't go anywhere or think of anything else, the loss of mobility and the scent of me is too overpowering.
okay so. you're her captive. she keeps you in her basement. she brings you 2-3 meals a day. you think it's cause she likes you strong enough to fight back. but because you don't want to be weak, you eat them. you need to eat
at first she left the meals and cutlery in the room then left you to eat. then she started staying to watch you eat. you didn't want to give her whatever kind of sick satisfaction she'd get from it, but you need to eat. so you put up with it
then she started sitting closer and closer to you while you ate. then she started holding the plate in her lap while you ate from it. it all happened so slowly, so gradually, that you didn't even really notice how strange it was until she started petting your hair while you ate. you tried not to eat for a few days after that. but you need to eat. so you cave. and she keeps petting your hair
one day she ties your wrists behind your back before she brings your meal. when she comes in with the food, she sits in a chair directly in front of you. you think about how much you hate her. you think about how much you hate that you're so used to being close to her. she picks up some of the food and cups it in one palm. then she extends the hand towards you
you stare at the food in her hands. your mouth starts to water. you understand, somewhere deep in you, that if you do this, you will be crossing a line. something in you will snap in a way that can't be fixed. you hate her. you don't want to give her whatever kind of sick satisfaction she'll get from it
tw: drugging, kidnapping, nudity, claustrophobia, minor surgery, suppository
Janet was being picked up. There were many hands on her, supporting her weight. She tried to crack her eyelids open, but they felt heavy as lead, disobeying her commands. Still partway in a deep, drugged sleep, she struggled to comprehend where she was, what was happening.
"This is subject 3178A," a voice called out above her. "She's being shipped to HQ. Express delivery."
It sounded like they were talking about her, but that didn't make any sense. How could she be shipped, as though she were cargo? She couldn't remember what had happened to her. The people handling her were in sterile uniforms, looking serious. Were these doctors? Was she in the hospital?
She was placed on a comfortably padded table, shivering slightly from the cold against her skin. Lights were flipped on overhead, so bright that she was forced to shut her eyes again.
"If she's an express delivery, we'd better move fast so we can get her on the next truck," said a woman's voice. "We should have just enough time for it."
Someone placed a cannula in her nose, and she scrunched up her face at the mild discomfort. Fresh, clean air flowed from it. Someone else tipped her jaw to shut her mouth, which she didn't realize was hanging open, and applied a kind of seal across it. Her eyebrows shot up in distress, her eyes trying to stay open, as she cried out, the seal muffling the noise.
There was a loud snap next to her ear, and she flinched away instinctively. "She's too alert. Let's get her down again."
Janet shook her head, wanting to protest. Something strongly scented was coming from the cannula in her nose, and she had no choice but to breathe it in. Within a few breaths, she was starting to feel as though she were floating, disconnected from her body, her struggle leaving her.
"There we go, she's out of it now," a voice commented. "Let's prep her."
Someone pulled off her heels and tossed them aside. Strong arms lifted up her back, and more people removed her blazer. A stern-looking woman was undoing the buttons on her blouse, not even looking up at her face, and soon that was removed too. The drug was making her slow to comprehend what was happening, and before she knew it, someone was unclasping her bra and taking it away, leaving her exposed to the cold and to the view of the uniformed people surrounding her. There was nothing she could do about it; her arms were too heavy and clumsy to try and cover herself up, and she couldn't even speak, but the floaty euphoria from the gas was dampening her concerns.
She couldn't resist as they lifted up her hips next, shimmying down her skirt and stockings, followed by her underwear, leaving her utterly naked in front of strangers. Tape measures were produced, and next they were picking up parts of her body and measuring them in many different ways, wrapping the tape around her upper arms and thighs and head, measuring each breast, the soles of her feet, the lengths of her fingers. One of them was even measuring the features of her face, the size of her nose and eyes and lips. Another one with gloved hands was gently but efficiently measuring something between her legs, a sensation that felt especially strange.
There was chattering among the group that she couldn't understand, and she let her eyes slip closed again. Just as she was starting to drift, a louder voice near her said "We're ready to package her."
She stirred a bit more awake again, wondering what that meant, just in time to feel something cold injected into her elbow. The coldness was spreading rapidly throughout her body, making her body feel far away and unresponsive. Someone picked up her head and began wrapping her hair on top of her head, securing it in a rubber cap. She tried to fight it, not liking this new sensation, but her body was entirely disconnected from her mind by now, and all she could do was whimper.
"It's all right," said a voice near her ear, more clinical than comforting. "This is just to keep you still for your transport."
Someone was spreading her legs and lifting her hips again, and something cold and lubricated was being slipped into her rear end. "That's going to help you sleep through your trip," said the voice.
She would have squirmed and struggled if she still could. She didn't want to go back to sleep, and it was humiliating to just have a suppository placed inside of her like that.
"Let's give that a few minutes to kick in before we finish processing her."
"We're running ahead of schedule. She's been surprisingly cooperative." A hand pat her stomach.
Janet didn't have much time to worry about what was happening next, because she could feel the suppository in her bottom starting to dissolve, and a kind of dreamy daze was gripping her mind. It wasn't exactly like sleep, at least not yet, but more as if her mind was being taken offline in the same way her body had been.
Someone picked up her arm and was writing on her skin with a marker. Another person did the same to her thigh. Something ice cold was sprayed onto her upper thigh, just below where she had been marked, making the skin there numb. Through her glassy, lidded eyes, she caught a glimpse of a scalpel glinting in the lights. When it sliced into her thigh, she felt pressure, but not pain. A person with a surgical mask and gloves held up a tiny chip in a set of tweezers, and it was placed inside of the incision, and then she was being sewn back up.
She was feeling incredibly relaxed and drowsy by now, courtesy of the cocktail of drugs she'd been given, feeling more like she was lying in a hammock on a warm summer's day than lying on an operating table, naked and vulnerable, at the mercy of whoever had captured her. By the time they started to pick her up again, her eyelids were starting to droop closed again, and it was a massive struggle just to get them open.
They set her down in a box, curling her into a foam insert that fit her perfectly. The cannula in her nose was hooked up to some kind of pump system inside the box.
"Express shipping, right? Make sure you label the box right this time. I don't want any nastygrams from the brainwashing department at HQ."
"Yeah, yeah, it was one time."
A man was lifting up a lid, and then she was plunged into utter darkness. With the darkness, silence, and cramped quarters, she should have felt claustrophobic, utterly terrified, but the drugs she had been given were mercifully keeping her terror at bay. The box was being jostled a bit, but she wasn't budging in her foam prison, and soon enough, her eyelids fell shut and wouldn't open again. She fell into a deep, euphoric sleep where everything felt nice and she had no troubles.
---
She could have been awake or asleep or drifting back and forth. It was impossible to tell as long as she was locked in the box, with no light and no sound apart from her own steady breathing. Slowly, painfully, she began to grow more aware, fear starting to return to her. She didn't know how long she had been trapped here, curled up in a foam insert that molded to her body. She didn't know where she was headed. She didn't know if she would ever be let out.
Just as she was starting to panic, the box opened, and cool, fresh air hit her naked skin. She blinked slowly, still out of it. She turned her head to see fluorescent lights overhead, and she could hear the sounds of voices and machinery echoing around her. The air smelled of metal and gasoline - an industrial place.
She tried to sit up a bit, sagging over the side of her box, her muscles barely functional. There were other boxes around, some of them open and empty, some of them open and containing other naked people. Just next to her, there was a young man curled up in a foam insert just like hers, sound asleep and looking utterly peaceful.
In her drugged state, she was in no state to comprehend what was happening here. The idea of escape lit up dimly in the back of her mind, but she could barely even hold her head upright, much less stand up and walk.
"This express delivery's too aware," said a gruff voice behind her. "They must've skimped on the sedation. Cheap bastards."
As Janet tried to turn to look, the gruff voice was joined by another one. "Let me see." A man in a jumpsuit was kneeling in front of her, shining a penlight in her eyes. She flinched away from the bright light instinctively. "Woke up, huh?" he said. "Don't worry, you'll be back to sleep soon."
"I -- I don't --" she croaked weakly, her mouth dry.
"You need some water, too." The man held up a water bottle with a straw to her lips, and she drank without thinking about it, her thirst suddenly unbearable now that she'd been made aware of it. "Get her something for the second leg of the trip," the man said to someone out of her field of view. "Something stronger, and the correct dosage. If she wakes up distressed before arriving at HQ, we'll get written up."
"No…" she protested. "I don't want it…"
He smiled condescendingly. "You do want it. You don't want to go through the shipping process awake."
Someone grabbed her arm, jabbing into the vein in her elbow with that cold, numbing drug from before, spreading through her rapidly, making her weak. That same person picked her up enough to set her facedown on the foam insert, and another lubricated suppository was worked up her rear.
"That'll get you sleeping much better this time," the man said, as her helpless body was repositioned in the foam insert. "Off to dreamland."
Whatever was in this suppository, it really was a stronger dose. She was already falling asleep as they put the lid back on the box and sealed it shut.
Previous | Masterlist
Next time: Janet finally gets to be brainwashed properly.
I'm alive! I had some health problems this month keeping me from writing, but I'm now writing again and hopefully will be posting a few more things... I have some writing about Eugene from Bookseller, a Human Resistance prequel, another part to Unfamiliar, and a lot of asks to get to.
I'll also be posting some Narumitsu (Ace Attorney) fic on my other blog, @demyxdancer, in the upcoming week.
Procedure 23 aims to make assets unfit for reconditioning less expensive to deal with via the induction of permanent damage to the subjects' nerves in order to inflict chronic pain. This act by itself would only serve to wear down the assets, as seen in Procedure 16B, but that is not the entire scope of Procedure 23. Instead of focusing in how pain affects the subjects, it is the pain relief that has become the object of study.
When a body is exposed to prolonged pain, it naturally reaches a sort of resistance to it. To deal with that problem, a potent painkiller has been administered to subjects after having experienced constant pain for three weeks, thus relieving their pain and reminding them what it is like to be free from it. The desperation inititally observed after the damaging of the nerves was incomparable to that which took over the assets when the painkillers started wearing off. They got to experience normalcy for about three hours, during which they went through the following cycle of emotions:
At first, they rejoyced. Their painless existance became a source of positive reinforcement.
Then, they understood what would happen when the effect of the drugs ended. Their joy was tainted with anger and fear.
After that, subjects C34 and J3 pleaded for the continued administration of the painkillers, while F18, U88 and C35 experienced a state of mania followed by complete silence.
In the end, as the pain returned, all assets became more pliant, and their response to previously-failed reconditioning became positive.
The only subject unaffected by Procedure 23 was F5. She had been previously tagged as unusable, and her presence in the test was her last chance at redemption.
F5 has been properly disposed of.
Trying something new. I miss writing about mechsplo, so I'mma start worldbuilding and writing about an unhinged scientist pioneering hound warfare...
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